


don we now our gay apparel

by thankyouforexisting



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas fic, First Date, First Kiss, Fluff, Hot Chocolate, Kinda, M/M, Season's greetings, Snow, Snowball Fight, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 19:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9086158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thankyouforexisting/pseuds/thankyouforexisting
Summary: Leo’s looking at him, his eyes fixed on his face, a peculiar expression drawn on his features, unreadable. He coughs, tearing his gaze away and saying, “You, um, you have some chocolate on your face.”
His hand automatically goes up to his lips, and he wipes swiftly, feeling his ears heating up. “Is it gone?”
“No, um,” Leo bites his lower lip, still not looking at him, before finally meeting his eyes, “It’s on your cheek.”
Mechanically, he wipes his left cheek.
“No, it’s - wait, just, let me -”
Leo leans towards him, moving his torso over the table, and he puts his hand against Guang-Hong’s right cheek, making him jump, just a bit. He’s absolutely sure that he’s blushing like mad, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Leo’s focused expression, the tip of his tongue poking out from his lips as he softly, gently, rubs his thumb against his skin. Leo smiles seconds later, once he’s given three thoughtful strokes, swallowing, and says, “There you go.”
He still hasn’t taken his hand off him, he’s still leaning over the table, and Guang-Hong is still fighting the urge to throw his arms around Leo’s neck and pull him closer.
He whispers weakly, “Thanks.” // Gay Santa Claus is in town.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wowza! This is my secret santa fic for the event that happened this year, written for @surpriseyaoinosebleed :3 I'm quite happy with it? But I wish I managed to make it longer.

It’s snowing, and Guang-Hong is almost absolutely certain that he has failed to dress appropriately for the weather.

 

The cruel wind brushes his cheeks mercilessly, biting, depriving him of any feeling in most of his face. He’s almost certain his nose is in danger from suffering frostbite. Although he  _ has _ brought a coat with him, courtesy of his mother’s incessant nagging, of course, he picked the thinnest and least comfortable out of spite, thinking to himself that it wasn’t  like he was going to wear it, anyway, and he’s currently attempting to stop the violent trembling shaking his frame, his teeth chattering to the rhythmically. Longingly, he remembers the warm winter boots near his door, waiting expectantly for his chance to use them, while his feet swim in a pool of melted snow inside his current footwear. Well, he  _ does _ have his scarf, if nothing else.

 

Maybe, Guang-Hong admits to himself miserably, he should have listened to his mom.

 

No matter now, it’s too late to back out once he’s already there, resting his back against one of the city’s elegant black lamp posts, the bleak morning light transforming every colour into a variation of pale greys and faded blues. 

 

“Guang-Hong,” a familiar voice calls out. He turns around automatically, lips curling up into an easy smile without him consciously thinking about it, “Hey! I almost missed you, hiding behind that lamp post.”

 

Guang-Hong shrugs, sheepish, and takes a step towards Leo, tightening his scarf around his neck, “Sorry. It’s so  _ cold _ here.”

 

Leo hums in agreement, moving closer to him, until they’re both walking beside each other. His hair is messy, Guang-Hong notices, trying not to be too obvious about his staring, most probably from wearing his hood up while he walked there. He wants to run his fingers through it, to smooth it out gently, taking his time with each soft strand. It would feel smooth and glorious, he thinks. Leo’s only wearing a long-sleeved jacket and a flimsy excuse for a jacket, but he seems totally okay with the disastrous weather, because he’s actually superhuman.

 

“Where are we going, then?” Guang-Hong mumbles, setting his gaze on his feet. He’s not sure it’ll work, but he’s probably got more chances of not making a fool out of himself if he limits their eye contact. The minute Leo manages to train his guileless brown eyes on him, sweet and kind, he’s a goner. “It better be somewhere inside, I’m freezing to death.”

 

“Well, you should have brought warmer clothes,” Leo comments, unsurprisingly. He pauses, for a few seconds, before adding, “There’s a great café near here with a permanently switched on heater.”

 

Guang-Hong beams at him, delighted, “Oh my  _ god _ , heaters, the greatest invention on Earth. Come  _ on _ , Leo….” He pulls him by the forearm, insisting, feeling himself shiver as their skins touch, just for a second, before Leo diligently moves along.

 

_ It’s the cold _ , Guang-Hong tells himself, scolding parts of him that dare to say otherwise, _ It’s really cold _ .

 

…

 

The café is called  _ Rita’s Place _ , but personally, Guang-Hong thinks it should be renamed  _ Heaven _ .

 

“This is literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he moans, curling his fingers around the porcelain cup of hot chocolate in his hands, his eyelids fluttering shut at the flavour of a ridiculous amount of sugar reaches his tastebuds. “Please let me die here.”

 

“I’m afraid your mom would probably be pissed at me if I did that,” Leo says wryly. His cheeks are flushed. Huh, must be the heater. “And I’d much rather just spend my day with you.”

 

Guang-Hong startles, almost dropping his cup as his head snaps up to stare at Leo, feeling his skin burn bright, accusing red, “Um. I’m not that exciting.”

 

“True, true,” Leo huffs, leaning back in his comfortable chair, his eyes glinting with humour, “And yet somehow I hang out with you anyway, you child.”

 

“Okay,  _ stop _ .” Guang-Hong waggles his finger at him in warning, narrowing his eyes, “Just because you’ve passed your eighteenth birthday -”

 

“ _ And _ nineteenth, remember what adults tell you -”

 

“- does  _ not _ mean you’re suddenly a cool and respectable adult!” he pouts, frowning and crossing his arms over his chest, his hot chocolate resting peacefully on the glass table. “I swear, if you try to pretend I’m your little brother again, I will kill you.”

 

“But you were  _ so cute _ in those Pokémon pajamas,” Leo teases, moving so he can reach Guang-Hong’s head to ruffle his hair despite his muttered complaint. “Phichit did it, too!”

 

“Phichit is not someone to choose as a moral compass,” Guang-Hong sniffs, trying not to crumble in the face of Leo’s small amused smile. “He would do anything if it would get him a popular pic on Instagram.”

 

“Then you can’t blame him for taking a cute picture of you,” Leo murmurs, not meeting his eyes. Hei’s flushed, ever so slightly. “The Internet would explode.”

 

He flushes, “T-that’s not  _ true _ , Leo! Stop making fun of me! I have a hot beverage and I can use it as a weapon if necessary!”

 

“Please,” Leo scoffs, “You couldn’t hurt a fly.”

 

“I  _ could _ ,” Guang-Hong mutters in indignation, taking a sip from his cup, “But flies don’t do anything wrong. Flies are  _ pure _ , Leo.”

 

Leo’s looking at him, his eyes fixed on his face, a peculiar expression drawn on his features, unreadable. When Guang-Hong cocks his head, confused, he coughs, tearing his gaze away and saying, “You, um, you have some chocolate on your face.”

 

His hand, holding his napkin, automatically goes up to his lips, covering the possible area, and he wipes swiftly, feeling his ears heating up. “Is it gone?”

 

“No, um,” Leo bites his lower lip, still not looking at him, before finally meeting his eyes, “It’s on your cheek.”

 

Mechanically, he wipes his left cheek.

 

“No, it’s - wait, just, let me -”

 

Leo leans towards him, moving his torso over the table, and he puts his hand against Guang-Hong’s right cheek, making him jump, just a bit. He’s absolutely sure that he’s blushing like mad, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Leo’s focused expression, the tip of his tongue poking out from his lips as he softly, gently, rubs his thumb against his skin. Leo smiles seconds later, once he’s given three thoughtful strokes, swallowing, and says, “There you go.”

 

He still hasn’t taken his hand off him, he’s still leaning over the table, and Guang-Hong is still fighting the urge to throw his arms around Leo’s neck and pull him closer.

 

He curls his fingers into fists and whispers weakly, “Thanks.”

 

It takes a few more slow, excruciating seconds of physical contact before Leo finally moves back, sitting down properly, and then Guang-Hong can breathe again. He doesn’t know what’s worse: the fact that Leo touched him, or the fact that he  _ stopped _ touching him.

 

After some small talk and the discussion on what they’re going to get Victor and Yuuri for their wedding gift, they pay for their drinks (or rather, Guang-Hong attempts to pay, elbowing Leo so that he can race to the counter, cash in hand, and finds that Leo’s already paid when he pretended to use the restroom. His plans are thwarted once again), and leave the café. 

 

“Where do you want to go now?” Guang-Hong mumbles, trying to zip up his coat up as much as possible, shivering. His feet are dry now, but it’s still unbearably cold outside.

 

“I was thinking of messing around with the snow,” Leo admits, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’ve never really gotten to do all the stupid things you do in the snow as a kid. But if you’re cold -”

 

“Cold?” Guang-Hong wheezes, willing his teeth to stop shattering, “Who’s cold? I’m not cold.”

 

“Guang-Hong, you are literally freezing to death.”

 

“I’m a tough guy!”

 

“Yeah well,  _ tough guy _ ,” Leo raises his eyebrows in disbelief, “I’m not carrying your corpse if you freeze to death.” 

 

“Chivalry is dead,” Guang-Hong laments, pressing the back of his palm against his forehead.

 

“Oh, come on,” his friend sighs, “Let’s stop by my house and get you something to warm you up. I can even get you proper shoes.”

 

“Your feet are way bigger, though,” Guang-Hong squeaks, trying to pretend as if the offer isn’t tremendously tempting. “I’d just waddle around.”

 

“It’d be dry waddling.”

 

He has a point.

 

They stop by Leo’s, a comfortable apartment near the centre of the town (“Ooh, you’ve got an apartment,  _ so adult _ .” “Guang-Hong, I will kick you.” “Nah, you won’t.”), and manage to find him a coat, even though the thing is about three times larger than him. It’s pretty nice for the cold, at least. 

 

There’s the issue of gloves.

 

“I’ve only got one pair,” Leo bites his lower lip, glancing at Guang-Hong, before handing them to him without hesitation, “You take them, I don’t want your fingers to go numb.”

 

“No, oh my god, Leo,” he shoves them back at him, “They’re your gloves, I’m not going to steal them!”

 

“It’s not stealing if I give them to you,” Leo insistently presses them against his chest again, “Take them, or I’ll feel bad.”

 

“I’ll feel  _ worse _ .”

 

“When did this turn into a competition?”

 

“I don’t know, Leo, when  _ did _ this turn into a competition?”

 

“We can just share them, anyway,” his friend cuts in suddenly, when he sees the fierce glint in Guang-Hong’s eyes. He’s known for his epic rants whenever he gets into an arguing mood, so it’s probably best that he got stopped. “We’ll each wear one and we can stick our hands in our pockets, alright?”

 

“But pockets aren’t as warm,” he says automatically.

 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Leo huffs, grabbing hold of Guang-Hong’s left hand and messily putting his glove on, while he stares at him, wavering between amused and amazed. Once he’s done, he lets go of his gloved hand to take the other one, and entwines their fingers together.

 

“That way,” Leo carries on, as if this isn’t making him lose his breath, as if he isn’t able to feel the warmth seeping from Leo’s skin onto his, the rough callouses on his fingers from endless hours of playing guitar, “We both get a glove, and we don’t get cold.”

 

“Oh,” Guang-Hong whispers, “Yes, that’s smart.”

 

Not letting himself doubt, he tightens his grip on his friend’s hand, heart beating so fast it cancels out every the noise coming from the busy streets, including the sound of annoying Christmas-themed pop-music blasting in every shop in a ten-mile radius. His face is radiating so much heat that he’s pretty sure he won’t be needing the gloves, after all.

 

“Uh, um,” Leo’s voice comes out choked, just slightly, “I am, yes, very smart.”

 

…

 

They end up heading towards one of the city’s public parks, after endless debating over which one is the most superior, and Guang-Hong nods in approval the second he sees the inches of snow covering the ground. Leo, for his part, rolls his eyes and tugs at his fingers, leading him towards the entrance. There’s a bit of a silent awkward moment as they both freeze right before Leo’s about to open the gate, with Guang-Hong internally wondering whether or not to separate their hands, but Leo smoothly pushes it open with one hand, thankfully.

 

At first, it’s all fun and games. They start clumsily building structures in the snow, starting with the basic huge round bulky ball and continuing with a basic snowman, which turns out slightly less perfect than they envisioned.

 

“He looks lumpy,” Leo tells him, blunt.

 

“Don’t talk that way about our child,” Guang-Hong punches him on his forearm lightly, sneaking in a smile at Leo’s silence about him calling anything “theirs”. “He’s just special, is all.”

 

But after lazing around the place for a while, he suddenly feels the impact of something soft against his neck, and the unmistakeable frosty tendrils of snow creeping down his jacket. Guang-Hong turns around immediately, eyes wide, to see Leo innocently smiling at him from the other side of the park, his hands clasped neatly behind his back.

 

“Did you just throw a snowball at me?” he demands, standing up from the floor and shaking the snow off his trousers.

 

“I don’t know,” Leo’s smile grows, and he lowers his gaze just a bit, just enough to make Guang-Hong’s head spin with the way his eyes darken. “Did I?”

 

“Y-you’re  _ so _ on,” he swears, hoping the red on his cheeks can be excused by the cold, bending down at the waist to collect a handful of snow. Leo turns away when he sees him pick it up, letting out a yelp and running to hide behind a tree, but Guang-Hong’s quicker, catching the middle of his back in an instant.

 

“Treachery!” Leo wails, shivering, “I wasn’t prepared!”

 

“I wasn’t, either,” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest, just in time for another snowball to catch him on his left leg, “H-hey!”

 

“All’s fair in love and war!”

 

“But you just  _ said _ -”

 

“I lied -Oomph! That was too rough!”

 

“I’ll give you rough,” Guang-Hong mutters under his breath, right before he takes off into a run, chasing Leo relentlessly through the empty park, “Don’t flee like a coward! Stand your ground!”

 

“Stoop,” Leo moans, still grinning. He’s much faster than Guang-Hong is, always has been, since he has a much better stamina and  _ actually _ practices, instead of giving himself 30 minutes for ‘selfie warm up’. That doesn’t mean Guang-Hong isn’t above some foul play, though.

 

Narrowing his eyes, he manages to reach a point where the distance between both of them isn’t too great, where their feet leave almost identical tracks on the snow as they run, in an almost childish display of freedom. Without allowing himself to hesitate, Guang-Hong tenses his legs, pushes himself forward, and grabs onto Leo’s back, merciless.

 

They both go down, immediately, in a tangle of limbs, scarfs and coats, flying through the chilly air. Leo hits the snow-covered ground face-first, groaning and whining at having to hold up Guang-Hong’s weight, while he giggles and tightens his arms around him, burying his face in the curve where his neck becomes his shoulder, trying not to breathe in his scent too obviously. 

 

Leo twists in his grip until they’re face to face, snow sticking to his hair and melting near to their shared body heat. His cheeks are flushed, his dark eyes shining. It takes him a few seconds, but then Leo’s hand moves to grip Guang-Hong’s arms as they lie on top of the frosty ground, almost as if he’s holding him hostage on top of him, though he’s unbelievably gentle.

 

“Got you,” Guang-Hong whispers, triumphant.

 

“You sure did,” Leo answers, just as softly, brings his hand to the back of his neck, and pulls him in close before pressing their lips together.

 

Guang-Hong wonders, in the obscure part of his brain that  _ isn’t _ screaming and freaking out about everything at the moment, in the corner of his mind where his thoughts aren’t focusing on the weight of Leo’s hands on his skin, on the chapped lips against his, gently looking for an opening before sliding his tongue inside, making him shiver and arch closer to him, feeling his cheek; he wonders how he could ever be cold, with Leo de la Iglesia’s arms around him.

 

…

 

They don’t leave immediately after, although Guang-Hong tries his best.

 

Leo, holding his hand and refusing to leave his side (lest he miss an opportunity to leave breathy kisses on his forehead every two minutes, his eyes glinting with excitement), insists on them doing a snow angel.

 

“We could be cuddling in your apartment,” Guang-Hong grumbles, stretching his arms out wide and swinging them up and down, teeth chattering, “We could literally be in your bed right now, under the covers. With  _ heating _ .”

 

“D-don’t talk to me about being in my bed,” Leo chokes out, pausing from his focused attempts at making a snow angel. “We’re in  _ public _ , Guang-Hong.”

 

“You could have just, you know, taken me home,” he suggests, laughing at the way it makes Leo blush and hide his face in his hands, curling up into a ball beside him. “You played yourself.”

 

“This,” Leo swears, pointing at him with an accusing finger, “This is why I didn’t dare make a move before. I  _ knew _ you were going to be the most manipulative boyfriend ever.”

 

“...boyfriend?” Guang-Hong echoes, letting just the smallest tendril of hope trickle into his voice, swallowing hard. 

 

“Boyfriend,” Leo repeats, confident, scooting closer to him and linking their hands together again, smiling joyously. “My annoying, procrastinating,” he moves even closer, until he destroys the shape of Guang-Hong’s snow angel, their foreheads almost touching, “Adorable, chocolate-loving boyfriend.” He pauses. “Um, if that’s alright with you.”

 

“Well,  _ my boyfriend _ ,” Guang-Hong pokes him in the chest, giddy, and grabs Leo’s jacket, pulling towards himself with intention,“is absolutely ridiculous.”

 

By the time they’re done kissing, he can’t feel the lower half of his body, and Leo’s already lecturing him about “learning how to  _ breathe _ , dear god”, but hey, what can he say? He’s enthusiastic.

 

…

 

“Guang-Hong,” his mother is standing at his door, her lips pursed as she glances around his room.

 

“Um, yes?” he mumbles, trying to find his butt pads. Where did he put the butt pads? Did he  _ lose _ them? Because if he did, then he’s sure as hell going to lose all the feeling in his butt when he makes a shit landing. “Yeah, mom? I’ve got to go to practice, you know.”

 

“Why do you have shoes that could be your father’s size?” she holds up Leo’s shoes, the pair he stole from him a few weeks ago, after their third disastrous date in the snow (Guang-Hong might be pretending to forget his clothes to get all of his boyfriend’s but it’s not like he’s going to  _ tell _ ).

 

“Um, I borrowed them from Leo when we went out in the snow,” he answers, still poking around his desk for his butt pads. He was  _ seriously _ sure he put them on top of the table before he went to bed yesterday, but then Phichit called and then  _ Leo _ called, and then -

 

“Did you also borrow his  _ underwear _ ?” 

 

Freeze. Oh  _ shit fuck _ .

 

Slowly, he turns around, completely positive that his face is beet-red, and knowing there’s no way he can fix this. The worse thing is that it’s absolutely not what his mom’s thinking, if he has any idea how her mind works. It actually happened because of Yuuri’s insistence that they show him around town before he had to leave (starting to move to St. Petersburg means he spends most of his time packing, making out with Victor in public places and trailing after Yuri happily), which ended up with all of them soaked to the bone once Yuri and Otabek began a massive snowball fight. 

 

It just so  _ happened _ that Leo had underwear to lend him, apart from, um, basically all of his clothes. Guang-Hong totally didn’t try to get as wet as possible, of course, and he certainly didn’t use the blanket to hide his blush after seeing Leo staring at him, enraptured, after coming out from the bathroom wearing only his clothes.

 

“Um…,” he swallows, well aware that he looks extremely guilty, and trying not to ponder on his mother’s knowing expression. “We might be dating.”

 

“Really,” she deadpans.

 

“Just a little!” he adds, waving his arms around, “And I’m not letting it interfere with practice  _ or _ school, and you know Leo, right? He’s a ray of sunshine!”

 

“Right,” his mother sighs, throws the pair of boxers at him, and walks away, pausing for a moment to yell over her shoulder. “Buy the man some clothes for Christmas, it looks as if he won’t have any left when you’re done with him.”

….She might be onto something there.

 

… 

 

_Fin_  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and Comments are always appreciated <3


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